


Sleeping Beauties

by thequidditchpitch_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Action/Adventure, Comedy, Friendship, Post-Hogwarts, Post-War, Romance, The Quidditch Pitch: Leaving Feast
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-03-25
Updated: 2008-03-25
Packaged: 2018-10-27 11:04:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10807779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thequidditchpitch_archivist/pseuds/thequidditchpitch_archivist
Summary: Months after the battle at Hogwarts, the castle is still in need of repair. Bill and Fleur arrive to lift a curse left behind by the Carrows, and somehow, our favorite canon couples get involved. Ron and Hermione, Ginny and Harry. Hagrid gets love, too!





	Sleeping Beauties

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Annie, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Quidditch Pitch](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Quidditch_Pitch), which went offline in 2015 when the hosting expired, at a time I was not able to renew it. I contacted Open Doors, hoping to preserve the archive using an old backup, and began importing these works as an Open Doors-approved project in April 2017. Open Doors e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Quidditch Pitch collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thequidditchpitch/profile).
> 
>  **Author's notes:** Special thanks to Rhichi for her elegant beta work!

Minerva McGonagall, acting Headmistress at Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry, arrived at Shell Cottage without warning, flustered and wrapped in a tartan coat.  “The Carrows have positively ruined the entire east tower!” McGonagall announced as she stepped into the kitchen.  Her voice rose an octave as she spoke and her hair had slipped out of its tight bun.  

    “What did zey do?” Fleur asked, nonplussed by the sudden arrival, then handed McGonagall a warm mug of hot chocolate. “’Ogwarts ‘as been out of ze Death Eaters’ control for months now.”

    “Well the Carrows certainly left their mark. Before they left, they converted two of the classrooms into ‘detention chambers,’ and set a fair number of curses in place to keep students from sneaking out. Poor Professor Flitwick still hasn’t regrown his eyebrows.”  McGonagall took a seat, leaned back in her chair, exhausted, and closed her eyes.

    “Professor,” Bill said, “is that why you’re here?  You’d like Fleur and myself to clean up the ‘detention chambers’?”

    McGonagall opened her eyes and took a long drink of cocoa.  She savoured it for a moment and set the mug down.  Bill Weasley and his new wife, Fleur Delacour-Weasley, were renowned curse-breakers.  And while McGonagall was reluctant to ask more of the Weasley family after their loss during the war, the truth was that wizards who could help rebuild Hogwarts were in short supply.  The entire wizarding world needed mending.   

“I hate to bother you both, so soon after the war, when you are just settling down as newlyweds…”

“It eez nothing,” Fleur said, and took one of McGonagall’s hands in her own. When she had married a Weasley and moved to England, Fleur hadn't exactly expected to be thrown headlong into one of the largest battles in the history of the wizarding world, never mind the seemingly endless undertaking that rebuilding was going to become.

“We’re happy to help Hogwarts get back on its feet,” Bill said.  “So, about those detention rooms…”

McGonagall smiled and took a steadying breath.  “No, we’ve got those covered.  It’s the Muggle Studies classroom.”  She covered her eyes with one shaky hand. The war and reconstruction had sapped a good deal of her strength as of late, and she was feeling her age a little more than usual. “Hagrid was the first…”

“The first what, Professor?”

“The first to go to sleep.  He took one step in the classroom and fell to snoring immediately.  Madam Pomfrey has him lying across five beds in hospital.  Madam Hooch was the next to go.  She must have heard Hagrid fall and ran in to help him.”

“Asleep, as well?”

“Out cold.  Her husband is catching the train to Hogwarts in the morning. He’s a Muggle, you know.”  Bill shrugged his shoulders.  McGonagall continued.   “And we can’t seem to break the curse from outside the classroom.” 

She shook her head.  McGonagall often wondered what decisions Dumbledore would have made regarding post-battle Hogwarts, and the sense of failure she felt in his shadow was oppressive at times.  “I would like to be able to tell the parents of Hogwarts students that the school is truly safe, inside and out, and that's something I can not honestly do right now.”

“With all due respect, Professor, Hogwarts hasn’t been truly safe for centuries, what with basilisks and three-headed dogs and…”

“Yes, yes, point taken, Mr. Weasley.  But we need those classrooms, and furthermore, I’d like my Professors awake for the first day of class.”

Bill chuckled.  “I’m sure Fleur and I can handle it.  We’ll be there tomorrow morning.”

“Thank you,” McGonagall said and left as abruptly as she’d arrived.  She had one more stop to make before heading back to Hogwarts.

  
  
The Burrow was silent for once.  Molly and Arthur had turned in early.  Harry and Ron hovered over a chessboard, each young man quiet in concentration.  Ginny sat on the floor, her back against Harry’s legs, reading Witch Weekly.  It was so quiet that the rustling of flames in the kitchen and the whoosh of air that accompanied McGonagall’s arrival startled Ron so that he leapt to his feet and drew his wand, just as Harry took hold of Ginny’s hand protectively, their wands at the ready as well.  

“Oh, dear, my apologies for startling you,” McGonagall said as she stepped into the living room.  Her hand was at her throat, clutching the opening of her coat there.  She could feel her eyes watering at the sight of the Gryffindors (her Gryffindors, she liked to think) still so tightly wound, so ready for battle.  The three lowered their wands and were around their old teacher at once.  Ginny took her coat and, before she knew it, McGonagall had another mug of cocoa in her hands. She took a sip, which helped a bit, as chocolate tended to do.

“I’ve just been at your brother Bill’s,” she said looking at Ron once they were all seated around the kitchen table.  “He’ll be doing some work for me tomorrow at the school.  I’d been meaning to speak with you next.”

“Me?” Ron asked, flustered.  McGonagall had always made him nervous, and he couldn’t help but think that perhaps he was in trouble again.

“Well, not just you,” she said, and her eyes fell on Harry, and then Ginny, the couple still holding hands. It was a relief to see that he was able to finally divert his attention, if only briefly, and concentrate on the things young men his age should be thinking about. “This pertains to all of you, really.  And I’ve a message for Miss Granger and Mr. Longbottom.”

“She’s with her parents. They’ve just got back from Australia.  Don’t know where Neville is at the moment,” Ron offered quickly, the volume and pace of his voice slightly elevated until he mentioned Neville.

“Ah, well.  Perhaps you lot will give Miss Granger the message then.  I’ll see to it that Mr. Longbottom gets and owl from me tonight.”  She stopped to look at them all again, and again McGonagall felt her eyes fill.  She shook her head, convinced now that the war had turned her into a sentimental old witch.  

“So what is the message, Professor?” Harry asked. 

“I’ve been authorized to allow you, Mr. Weasley, Miss Granger and Mr. Longbottom to sit for your N.E.W.T.s without a seventh year under your belts.”  

Harry’s mouth dropped open, and Ron groaned a little, having been under the assumption that his actions in the previous months had been enough to get him out of taking his exams. McGonagall stiffened at the sound.  Getting Harry Potter a “pass” out of seventh year had been easy.  It had taken considerably more to convince the Ministry to allow Ron, Hermione, and Neville to sit for the exam, too.  

Ginny’s face fell at the announcement, which did not escape McGonagall’s notice, either.  The students in Ginny’s year, though valiant in their efforts during the war, would not be excused from a seventh year if they wanted to sit for N.E.W.T.s.

“I know the two of you want to be Aurors, and you’ll need your exams for that.  I’ve discussed it with the faculty, and you will get your lessons in a condensed form from each of them.  I will be happy to tutor you as well before the tests administered in October.  Your schedules,” she said, and handed them each a piece of folded parchment. 

“P-professor,” Harry began, “I-I don’t know what to say.”

“Say nothing then, Mr. Potter.  The wizarding world owes you far more than this.”  McGonagall patted Harry’s hand, noticing the faint scars Umbridge’s detention had left there only a few years ago.  Ron coughed quietly.  “That goes for you, as well,” McGonagall said, and patted Ron’s reddening cheek.  Again, she felt her eyes betray her, so McGonagall clapped her hands and rose from the table.

“I expect the two of you at Hogwarts for your first lesson by nine o’clock tomorrow. Understood?”

“Yes ma’am,” Harry and Ron said at once.

McGonagall looked at the delicate, magic powered analog wristwatch she wore.  “Ah, it’s too late to see Miss Granger.  Will you deliver the message, Mr. Weasley?  I expect her there tomorrow, too.”  Ron nodded as he was handed Hermione’s schedule, accepting it with a small surge of pride.  McGonagall stepped into the fireplace and disappeared in green flames.

The moment she was gone, Ron grunted in frustration.  “More school,” he muttered, reading the schedule of lessons they’d been given.  “Blimey, I don’t need all this to help George with the shop.”

“You won’t be doing that forever,” Ginny said and Ron shrugged his shoulders.  Harry and Ron had both received letters from the Auror Department at the Ministry.  As soon as they passed their N.E.W.Ts, both were in the program.  Ron had declined right away, though George had balked at the idea of needing help with the joke shop.  

“She’s right, mate.  Once George hires some help, you’re free to do what you’ve always wanted,” Harry chimed in.

“Don’t know about Hermione, though,” Ron said as he looked her schedule over.  “She’s been saying she wants to finish her last year at Hogwarts.  Mental, that one.”  Harry and Ginny watched Ron carefully.  His voice had cracked a bit the moment he said Hermione’s name, and he was running a finger over her schedule slowly, noting the places where their “classes” overlapped.  He cleared his throat then, and said, “It’ll be weird if she chooses to go back in the fall.  I mean, you know, not having her around.”

“Honestly, Ron, it’s not like she’ll forget you if she does go back to Hogwarts.  She’s mad about you,” Ginny said, laughter in her voice.

Ron reddened into a deep crimson blush that was reserved for moments when Hermione, and her feeling towards him, was mentioned. “I’ll just, you know, convince her to take her N.E.W.T.s early, with us.  She can’t separate the trio now, can she?” 

“The trio!  See that?  I’m always getting left behind!” Ginny blurted suddenly, and Harry wrapped his arm around her shoulder and squeezed her close.  

Ginny sighed, silently apologizing for her outburst with a loving glance at Harry. “Merlin, how will I ever get through seventh year without you?”  she asked, and put her head on his shoulder.

“I know of at least seven secret entrances to Hogwarts, Gin, and a dozen empty classrooms.  You’ll be sick of me by Easter.”  Harry kissed Ginny’s forehead and Ron made a gagging sound.

“Enough.  I’ll send Pig to Hermione,” Ron declared, his voice catching on her name again.  He disappeared up the stairs, taking two steps at a time.

Ginny sighed as she watched him go.  “You reckon those two will ever get it together?”

Harry glanced up at the ceiling where a few floors above him, Ron was stomping around, looking for parchment.

“You know, I was sure they’d make a go of it after that kiss during the war, but they’re both still so, so…”

“Scared,” Ginny supplied, and Harry agreed.  

“They’ll get there,” Harry said, and held Ginny close.

 

The morning light came through the stained glass windows of the east tower in shafts of vibrant color.  Here and there, remnants of the battle remained—a headless armored knight lay slumped in one corner, a portrait with torn canvas fluttered in the drafty hallway, unknown stains darkened the stone underfoot.  McGonagall led Bill and Fleur to the Muggle Studies rooms and stopped just short of the entrance.

The double doors were blown off their hinges, and lay on the ground, each cracked in two.  Strange thorny vines wrapped themselves around the doorway, up and over the lintel, and hung like jungle snakes over the entrance.  “These brambles grew around the door after Hagrid and Madam Hooch fell asleep.  We levitated the two of them out from here after clearing the vines, but they are growing back rapidly.”  McGonagall sighed then, thinking of the other repairs necessary before the fall.  Wards had to be strengthened, entire walls erected, curses like the ones the Carrows left behind lifted, and four special students had to be prepared for their exams.  She brushed a few strands of hair from her face and clicked her heels together, preparing herself for the long day ahead.  “Well then, I’ll leave you both to it. Please be careful.”

"Eet weel be no problem,” Fleur said, and kissed McGonagall first on one cheek, then the other.  The older woman stood stiffly for a moment, then smiled at Fleur before taking her leave. 

“No problem, eh?”  Bill said, and pinched Fleur’s waist teasingly.  “You underestimate dark magic.”

“You zink so?” Fleur said, her hands on her hips now.  “I already know what zis eez.  Don’t you recognize eet?”

“It’s a nasty curse, is what it is,” Bill said, examining the doorway now with narrowed eyes.

“ _Non.  C'est la belle au bois dormant_!”

“La what?”

“Ze Sleeping Beauty story.  See?  Ze brambles zat grew after la belle princess was cursed with sleep?  It eez a French tale.”

Bill’s attention was on his wife now.  Fleur had been the brightest student at Beauxbatons, a Tri-Wizard champion, an award-winning curse breaker, and an instrumental member of the Order.  She had a keen inner sense about magic, and Bill had learned to trust her.

“A Muggle fairy tale?  You know those?”

“ _Non_ again, _mi cherie_.  It was a true story.  A Veela princess fell in love with a Muggle shopkeeper.  His muzzer, a dark witch who hated ze Veela, cursed ze princess with sleep.  Ze wicked woman gifted ze princess with a ruby ring, and when ze Veela put eet on, she fell asleep.  But, like most practioners of dark magic, ze shopkeeper’s muzzer knew nothing of true love.  With one kiss, ze young man woke his lover.  End of story.”

“And the curse was broken.”

“ _Oui_.”

“So someone has to kiss Hagrid?” Bill said, and made a face that resembled an infant mandrake pulled out of its pot.

“ _Oui_.  But zere is also zat,” Fleur said, and pointed at a small, glowing, red stone on a desk inside the Muggle Studies room.  It pulsed like a heart.  “Ze curse emanates from zere, I believe.  Ze Veela princess’ ruby.”

Bill looked at his wife in surprise. Fleur was good, but not this good.  “How in the world do you know all of this?” he asked.

Fleur closed the gap between herself and Bill.  She snaked her arms around his neck and whispered seductively, “Ze Veela princess was my great-grandmuzzer.  Zat ring was stolen from our house shortly after ze Tri-Wizard tournament.  Someone has turned on ze enchantment again.”  She kissed Bill’s neck and he felt the hair on his arm stand attention.

“You are a wonder, you know that?” he said into her fragrant hair.

“ _Oui_ ,” Fleur said, and cupped Bill’s face.  “And I want zat ring back.”  She kissed him hard then, so hard that Bill found he could not push away, though he didn’t want to. He was moving now, and he thought for a moment that Fleur was heading towards one of the benches against the wall.   It wasn’t until they were inside the Muggle Studies room, past the brambles and in the circle of the glowing light, that Fleur parted her lips from his and Bill realized where they were.

“Fleur!” he shouted.  “Why are we still awake?”

“Ze kiss of true love,” she said and inspected the ruby ring without touching it.  “Eet made us immune to ze effects of ze curse.”  She placed one long finger on the tip of her chin, and sat down to look at the ring more closely.  Bill crept up behind her, excitement from the kiss still mounting, and nuzzled her neck.

“You know, love, that no one can interrupt us while we are working,” Bill whispered and Fleur’s musical laugh echoed in the empty tower then died away when she kissed her husband again. 

 

Ron’s note to Hermione, sent via Pig, was still in her jeans’ pocket when she arrived at Platform 9 ¾.  Ron, Neville, Ginny and Harry were all wedged together on a single bench, waiting for the train.  Ron spotted Hermione first and he smiled and pushed Neville off the bench saying, “Move, you git.  Hermione’s here.”

Neville stumbled to his feet, shot Ron a foul look before deciding that a lovesick Ron was even less tactful than regular Ron and forgave him.  “Hermione,” Neville said, and hugged her quickly, then backed away.  Harry and Ginny both stood, too, and Hermione embraced them both at the same time.  Ron seemed to struggle with the decision to stand or not, and in the end, decided to pat the bench beside him with his hand, indicating where Hermione should sit.

“Thank you, Ronald,” she said, and sat, her hands folded on her lap.  “How have you been?” she asked him, without meeting his eyes.

“Good. You?”

“I’ve been well.”  

“Good,” Ron said again, then suddenly took hold of Hermione’s hand. After a moment of nervous consideration, she visibly relaxed, and leaned into him a bit.  She’d always imagined that once she and Ron openly admitted their feelings their relationship would grow the way Harry and Ginny’s had—relaxed, natural, blissful.  But their revelation to one another had happened under such stressful circumstances that once the blur of war was over, and the funerals had drained them of energy, they found themselves uncomfortable around one another again, as if they were both unsure whether the kiss outside the Room of Requirement had really happened.  That memory seemed as fuzzy as the rest to both of them now.  

Hermione had always imagined Voldemort’s fall would be one of those moments that would fill her memory, be excruciating in its remembered detail.  But the opposite occurred.  During interviews she found herself hard pressed to recall specific moments.  It was as if she’d been using a pensieve.   Ron felt the same way.  So did Harry, and Ginny for that matter, but none of them talked about it.  

There had been only the one kiss, and loads of hand holding afterwards.  When she visited the Burrow, Ron often walked her to the chimney, and they always lingered there a while before Hermione finally left.  In saying their goodbyes, Ron would take a sudden step forward, as if intent on kissing Hermione, then he’d pause, scratch the back of his neck, and bring up some mundane thing like pumpkin pasties.  Hermione had told herself that the next move was his, but she was itching to take charge again

“So,” Ron said, interrupting the silence.  “You’ve made a decision then?”

Hermione’s eyes went wide at once.  “You mean, about, you and m…”

“Yeah, about seventh year,” Ron cut in.

“I plan on finishing my education,” she said quietly.  Ron seemed to wilt a little at that.  “I just can’t imagine abandoning it now,” she went on.  “Wizards don’t go to uni like Muggles do, so really this is my last chance to be, well, academic.”  Hermione knew her voice sounded like she was pleading, but she couldn’t help it.  She needed Ron to understand that her decision to return to Hogwarts had nothing to do with avoiding him.

“So you’re here now because?” Ron asked, his hand still holding hers, as if afraid that letting go would cause her to leave and never return.

“Professor McGonagall wouldn’t mind me taking some lessons with all of you to get ahead.”

“Bloody hell, Hermione,” Ron said and tousled her hair gently with his free hand.  “You’re mental.”

“You love it,” Hermione said without thinking, and felt her cheeks heating.

“I do.”

Hermione squeezed his hand, and for the first time, felt comfortable with her decision to return for a full seventh year.  Of course, the thought of being at Hogwarts without her boys, without Ron in particular, was still more than a little frightening.

The train roared into view, breaking into Hermione’s thoughts. Ron, too, had been thinking along similar lines, and he was glad Hermione did not release his hand when she stood for the train.

“Do you think McGonagall will mind me tagging along?” Ginny wondered as they boarded the train sent just for them.  

“She’ll put you to work on clean up straightaway, I imagine,” Harry said.

“She mentioned Bill would be there. Perhaps I can help him.”

“Do you think we’ll get lunch?” Ron pondered next, and everyone looked at him with a smile.

“The more things change,” Neville said without having to complete his thought.  The group settled into a compartment near the front, and the ride to Hogwarts was made quicker by their comfortable, friendly banter.

 

    McGonagall found she could not cough loudly enough to get the attention of the Weasley newlyweds in the Muggle Studies room, now engaged in a snog so intense that she could not tell where Fleur began and Bill ended.  So, she employed her best “Professor” voice when she called out, “Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, what DO you think you are doing?”

    Bill was so startled that he toppled off of the desk where he had been sitting with Fleur on his lap.  He rubbed the lipstick off his face with the back of his hand, leaving red smudges on his cheeks that blended with the sudden blush that had begun to form there.

    “Professor!  We were, were, um,” Bill began and turned to Fleur.  “What were we doing?”  He was having a hard time catching his breath and organizing his thoughts.

    “We’ve solved ze problem of ze curse,” Fleur said, composed and smiling.

    “I see that,” McGonagall began, and took a step towards the room.

    “No!” Bill and Fleur shouted at once, and McGonagall’s foot froze in the air.  “The curse is still in place.  We just know how to get around it.”

    “Impossible,” McGonagall said, but stayed firmly outside the room.  “ I’ve just come to tell you that Madam Hooch is awake.”

    “Her husband, he eez here, non?”

    “Of course,” McGonagall said.  “He arrived just now.”

    Bill looked at Fleur and smiled.  “True love,” he said.

    “Excuse me?”

    “True love, Professor.  I take it Mr. Hooch kissed his sleeping wife before she woke?”

    “I believe so,” McGonagall said, and her eyes widened with understanding.  She fingered the vines around the doorway, and whispered, “Sleeping Beauty.” It was no surprise that she hadn't considered it before, as she highly doubted the Carrows were the kind of people to dabble in children's literature for its aesthetic value.

    “Ah, see?  Your Professor eez also familiar with French tales!” Fleur said and clapped her hands.  “We zink ze Carrows were experimenting with Muggle fairy tales, making zem come alive, so to speak, but in very nasty ways.”

     McGonagall remained concerned.  “I have my Quidditch coach back, but what about Hagrid?”  McGonagall worried her hands into a knot.

    “I vill floo my old headmistress, Madame Maxine,” Fleur said.  “Eet weel take some doing, but eet eez common knowledge she 'as never loved anyone but ‘Agrid.”  Fleur bounced out of the room, past Bill and then McGonagall, and disappeared down the hall.

    “She certainly has…” McGonagall began.

    “Flair,” Bill answered, a wistful smile on his face, his ears on fire.

  
They found Hogwarts empty when they arrived.  Professor McGonagall’s office was empty, as was the faculty room.  Debris from the battle still lay in small piles here and there.  Ron stepped on a wand that had already broken in two, a thin, ragged dragon heartstring holding the thing together.  “Wonder who that one belonged to?” he asked aloud, but no one attempted an answer.  The four stood together, taking deep breaths and surveying the damage, as well as the repairs underway.  

Suddenly, they heard laughter coming from the hospital wing, and so they walked towards the friendly sound.  Once inside, they were greeted by Madam Pomfrey, who was sitting on the edge of a hospital bed in which a now conscious and rather high-spirited Madam Hooch lay.   Hooch’s handsome, Muggle husband was sniffing a potion and screwing up his nose in distaste.  “I’ll take Muggle flavored medicine any day.  It always tastes like cherries.  Sort of,” he said, and the two witches laughed again.

Madam Pomfrey caught sight of the four at the moment, and announced, “Alas, my most frequent customers are back!” before rising and coming to them.  “Here to see Hagrid, yes?”

“Hagrid?” Harry asked, then craned his neck to see Hagrid’s enormous feet sticking out from behind a curtain.  It was then that they all noticed the snoring.  At first, they’d thought the rumbling was part of the reconstruction.  Someone, they thought, was moving a wall somewhere.  But now it was clear that the noise came from Hagrid, who slept with his giant mouth open, his eyelids fluttering every so often.  

“What’s wrong with him?” Harry asked, concerned for his friend. 

“We don’t quite know, Mr. Potter.  Nothing wakes him.  Madam Hooch was asleep too, until just this morning.”  Madam Pomfrey pointed at the couple on the bed, and Madam Hooch waved at the youngsters.  “I don’t know why the curse wasn’t lifted from Hagrid.”

“A curse?” Hermione asked, and Madam Pomfrey nodded.  Hagrid chose this moment to murmur something about “O, limp, limp.”  

“He’s been doing that,” Madam Pomfrey said, and rushed over to take Hagrid’s temperature.

By now, Harry, Hermione and Ron had already looked at one another meaningfully.  In two seconds, Hermione would dash to the library and Harry and Ron would tear through the castle in search of clues.  Ginny noticed the significant looks.

“You lot can’t help yourselves, can you?” she asked, shaking her head.

“Too well practiced, I imagine,” Neville added.  He and Ginny stared at the others with raised eyebrows and half smiles.

“All right then, Hermione.  To the library!” Ginny announced, and pulled Hermione towards the exit.  Harry’s brow knit in concern.  He nudged Ron, and the two of them left as well.

“I’m heading to Herbology, see if I can’t mix up something,” said Neville, and left in the other direction. 

Madam Pomfrey clucked her tongue.  “I’ll wager one of them is in a bed here before the day is out.”  She collected the potions on a tray, checked on Hagrid one last time, and closed herself in her office. 

  
“Hermione, wait!” Ginny shouted after her friend.  Hermione was far ahead, racing to the one place she knew better than her own home—Hogwart’s library.  Ginny had just heard Bill’s familiar voice.  “It’s Bill, Hermione.  Let’s say hello.”

Hermione paused, considering for a moment the urgency of their mission.  Perhaps asking Bill about Hagrid’s curse might be relevant research too, she reasoned with herself.  She caught up with Ginny and the two of them approached the vine-covered doorway of the Muggle Studies room.  

“Hey Bill,” Ginny said, just before she and Hermione crossed the threshold.  Bill looked up in time to see the two girls slacken their pace.  Ginny leaned into Hermione and the two toppled over one another in sleep. 

“Shite!  Shite!” Bill swore over and over again as he knelt down beside the two catatonic girls.  “Gin?  Hermione?  Shite.  Shite.”  He straightened out Ginny’s limbs and put his folded coat underneath her head.  He did the same for Hermione, using Fleur’s coat.  The girls slept on despite all the movement.  The Veela ruby pulsed more quickly now, and the effect in the room was a bit sickening.  “Sorry girls,” Bill said, and left the room then in search of Fleur.  Behind him, the brambles grew thicker until only the red of Ginny’s hair was visible through the gaps of vine. 

Bill finally discovered Fleur talking with Harry and Ron near the portrait of Gawain the Foolish, explaining Hagrid’s situation to them.  Harry kept pushing his glasses back in a sign of nervousness, and Ron was barely suppressing his laughter as Fleur described Madame Maxine’s response.

“So she’s coming to kiss him?” Harry asked, his glasses now so smudged that Bill was surprised he could see through them.  Ron snickered.

“ _Oui_. She’ll be here by this afternoon.  She sounded very worried about ‘Agrid.  Ah, Beel,” she said, noticing him nearby.  “Ze ruby, it eez still glowing?”

“Of course.”

“Less brightly now zat Madam Hooch is awake?”  

“Actually,” Bill started, worried more about Harry’s and Ron’s reactions than Fleur’s.  “Actually, it’s brighter now.  Pulsing faster, too.”

“’Ow can zis be?  I was sure ze curse would be diminished now that one less person eez affected.”

Bill paused and decided that the best course of action would be to get straight to the point.  “Ginny and Hermione walked into the cursed room.”  

It took a moment for Bill’s announcement to sink in.  Harry was the first to react, brushing past Bill and Fleur with a rapidity that came so naturally to him and had served him well on the Quidditch field and in battle.  He was staring at a wall of thorny vines before he knew it. Still pumping with a nervous surge of adrenaline, Harry jumped when Bill put his hand on the younger man’s shoulder.

“The question is, Harry, how much do you love my sister?”

Harry turned to look at Bill, who was startled by the determination he suddenly saw in Harry's eyes.  Harry lifted his wand, and sent a silent spell at the brambles, which temporarily dried and withered a bit, leaving just enough room to walk through the door. 

“ _Levicorpus_ ,” Bill called, his wand now pointed at his sister. Ginny’s limp form came floating towards Harry, who caught her in his arms deftly, and laid her on the ground, her head on his lap.

A strand of copper hair had caught on Ginny’s lip, and Harry plucked it away gently, then ran the back of his hand over her cheek.  The tenderness Bill saw made him uncomfortable, so he looked away.  “True love,” Fleur whispered in Bill’s ear, prompting him to say, “Go on, Potter.  Wake her up,” more gruffly than he’d wanted.

Harry bent low and kissed Ginny without reservation.  A few months ago, a scenario like this would be mortifying.  But after the war, Harry no longer felt the same small anxieties.  Kissing Ginny in front of two of her older brothers was nothing now.  Ginny responded at once, her hand coming to life at her side, then rising to caress Harry’s neck.

“Oi,” Bill called then, eager to end the “moment” happening before him.

“Eet eez sweet,” Fleur said, her head cocked to one side with a dreamy, feminine smile.

“It’s disgusting,” Bill and Ron said at once.

“You think that’s gross?” Harry said as helped a confused and besotted Ginny to her feet.  “This prat has to kiss Hermione next,” he said, indicating Ron.  

Ron peeked through the space in the brambles and saw where Hermione lay.  He ran his fingers through his hair and sighed.  “It’s like second year again,” Ron said, his voice sounding strained.  

“Similar, yes,” Harry said.  The Hermione before them now was sleeping so peacefully, her curls fanned out to the side in intricate squiggles, the brown color catching the red light of the ruby, that she reminded Harry of princesses in fairy tales, not someone petrified.  “But this is different, mate.”

Ron nodded, lost in thought as he watched her sleep.  “ _Levicorpus_ ,” he said softly, and Hermione floated towards him, like Ginny before her.  She sighed in her sleep and Ron felt a tightening in his chest at the sound of it.  “What if I’m not the one?” Ron asked to no one in particular.  

It was Fleur who came to Ron’s side then.  She twirled one of Hermione’s curls around her finger.  Without looking at Ron she asked, “When you wake up in ze morning, who eez ze first person you zink about?”

“Breakfast,” Ron answered without thinking. 

“Person, you git,” Bill called from a few feet away.  Ron scowled at him.

“Ronald,” Fleur pressed on.  “Ze first person you think about eez whom?”

“It’s her,” Ron whispered.  “Always her.”

“Zen you are ze one.  ‘Ave no doubt.  Kiss _la belle dormant_.”

Ron hesitated.  Hermione still floated in the air before him.  Her lips were moist and inviting.  He turned to see his sister and brother, Fleur and Harry staring at him expectantly.  “Give a man a moment, will you?” he asked, and the others turned and left, though Ron was sure they were hiding around the nearest bend.  He turned to Hermione again.  “Bell dormant indeed,” he mumbled quietly, and took a deep breath before pressing his lips to hers.  Their first kiss had been frantic, fueled by fear and desperation, but also longing.  This was different.  Ron noticed now how Hermione tasted like mint and something else, something subtle and sweet.  He noticed, too, how perfectly they seemed to fit together, how her breath warmed his cheek, and how he could feel the hardness of her teeth under her lips.  

Ron ended the kiss and their lips made a soft, smacking sound at the release.  Hermione had not moved.  Ron felt his heart beating wildly in his chest, his breath coming up short.  “I’m not the one,” he said to himself, and felt his eyes burning.  

Just then, Hermione murmured something that sounded awfully like “Once more,” to Ron, and so he bent low again, kissing her with more intensity than before, his eyes scrunched up to keep from crying.

Hermione opened her eyes then and squeaked.  Ron ended the kiss, saw Hermione’s shocked and open eyes, and whooped and yelled so loudly that the others came tumbling around the corner.

“I knew it!” Ginny exclaimed, and ran up to hug Ron from behind.

“Good one, mate,” Harry laughed, clapping Ron on the back.

Neville rounded the corner then, carrying a mortar and pestle full of something brown and crumbly.  “We might try an infusion of Horwood as it has properties similar to adrenali…” He stopped talking the moment his eyes fell on Hermione, floating four feet off the ground and struggling now to get on her feet.  “What in the world?” Neville asked before Hermione interrupted him.

“Will someone please put me down!” Hermione demanded, and Ron took off the spell at once.  She straightened her shirt and tried to tamp down her hair.  Then, without thinking, she touched her lips.  “What happened?” she asked Ron, who was grinning crookedly at her.

“First of all, you are decidedly not a morning person,” Ron said.  “Impossible to wake up, this one is,” he joked, and the others laughed.  Hermione cocked one eyebrow at Ron, who promptly threw an arm around her shoulder and kissed the top of her head.  “There,” he said, “that’s three kisses you owe me now.”

Before Hermione could answer, Hagrid’s voice was heard booming through the castle walls. “Olympe!  You’re here!”  The sound resonated through the rafters.  At once, the glow of the Veela ruby died out.

“A ha,” Fleur said, and ran into the room without feeling even a touch sleepy.  She took up the ring and balanced it on the palm of her hand.  “True love conquers all, _non_?” she said aloud, then pocketed the stone.


End file.
